Neville's Story
by ColourInfinity
Summary: Neville answers the question 'How would you describe yourself?'. *Complete* Neville's POV. If you read GoF, you can read this. Please R&R!!!!


*Disclaimer*: I am supreme ruler of all that is Bananas. I don't own Harry Potter though. There aren't Bananas in it. Pears, yes, but no Bananas.  
  
A/N: I always knew there was more to Neville. So, I wrote it. *shrugs*  
  
(Apologies for any grammar mistakes ahead of time.)  
  
Neville's story  
  
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You know how, at the beginning of the school year, teachers who've never met you before give out these quizzes to learn more about you? You know, they ask those questions like 'What's your favourite colour?' 'Do you have any pets?', 'How would you describe yourself?'. That kind of thing.  
  
'How would you describe yourself?' That's the one I always have a little trouble with. I know, I've known myself for 16 years, I should be able to tell you about me. But I never can. Not really.  
  
Sure, you could say I'm forgetful, honest, weak, shy, the lights are out upstairs, and I've only got a flashlight - you know all those labels. But really, none of them totally describe *me*.  
  
I don't think anyone knows who I am. And that's probably because they don't know my story.  
  
My parents are Frank and Nora Longbottom. They are patients at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. They are there because of one sole thing. You-Know-Who.  
  
His followers may not have killed the bodies of my parents, but they took their minds - they killed their souls. When Granny takes me to visit them, they can't even speak. They just stare at me, confused, and rock back and forth in their rocking chairs, smiling faintly. I try to tell them things. But they can't understand. I try to get them to remember things, but they don't. They don't even know who I am.  
  
They are a pair of empty shells. They might as well have been killed.  
  
Nobody knows who I am. Not really. I might as well be two different people. The one everyone sees, and the one that I only know.  
  
The one everyone sees: forgetful, frightened, weak-minded.  
  
But not even Granny knows the real me.  
  
So, 'How would you describe yourself?'  
  
Here's how.  
  
They don't realize this, but I saw everything, and I remember every detail. I saw my parents' being tortured in front of my eyes. First my father, then my mother. If the Death Eaters hadn't been scared off, I'm certain I'd have been next. I'm sure they'd have gone after me, too. The memories are so lucid, so vivid, that sometimes I feel like I'm living it all over again.  
  
So how is it that you can call me forgetful?  
  
I didn't try to run away that day. I stayed and screamed for someone to come help us. I screamed until one of the, came and covered my mouth so I couldn't utter a sound, but even then, I kicked, bit, scratched, and clawed at the, until one of their 'mates' came to hold me down. Mother and Father, did the same, but they were restrained sooner.  
  
So how is it that you can call me frightened?  
  
I've kept it all to myself. The Death Eaters who did it were put in Azkaban. I didn't need to tell anyone what I'd seen. I knew I'd be pitied even more if I did. I resolved long ago not to let anyone know what I'd seen my parents' go through, what I'd been through. And I've stuck to that. I've never let anything slip. Not once.  
  
So how is it that you can call me weak-minded?  
  
Sure. Everyone always sees the surface. But wait. Before you turn away after sticking that label on my fore head, look a little closer. Dig a little deeper. There's more there than you can ever know.  
  
Next time the teacher sends one of those quizzes my way, don't expect to see qualities like 'brave', 'strong', or 'smart'. They won't be there. Those are the qualities I keep to myself. I know it's not what everyone sees, but that is part of who I am. I need that mask.  
  
That mask is what's holding my world together.  
  
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Your name: Neville Francis Longbottom.  
  
Your favourite colour(s): Scarlet and Gold.  
  
Describe yourself in 10 words or less: I'm me. Look deeper than what you would normally see.  
  
Your favourite sport: Quidditch  
  
Do you have any pets: Yes, a toad named Trevor  
  
. . .  
  
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